Read Your Food For Thoughts

| Somerset, England, UK | At The Checkout, Awesome Workers, Food & Drink, Geeks Rule

(I work Saturdays at a local pub and it tends to be a very quiet shift. The chef comes up to the bar to check the evening’s reservations just as a customer is ordering.)

Customer: “Can I have the ham and tomato baguette, but no tomato?”

(I look to the chef and he nods.)

Me: “Certainly.” *hits button for ham and tomato baguette* “What table was that?”

Customer: “Table six.”

(The chef leaves, giving me a thumbs up so I know he knows what to do.)

Me: “Okay that’s [price].”

Customer: *handing over the money* “Don’t you have to write a note?”

Me: “A note?”

Customer: “On the till, don’t you have to write a note letting the chef know?”

Me: *hands them their change* “No, he already knows.”

Customer: “How? Is he psychic?”

Me: “He was the guy that was just up here. He heard you.”

Customer: *walking away, muttering* “More fun when I thought he was psychic.”

Your Passport To Being Banned

| USA | Criminal & Illegal, Food & Drink

(I go into a bar I frequent. I had lost my wallet a few days earlier, but I know most of the bartenders, so I didn’t expect them to ask for identification. The woman working doesn’t recognize me, and asks for my ID. Also, I’m a 23-year-old white woman.)

Me: “I think I actually have my passport in my car. Hold on.”

(I go get it and show the bartender.)

Bartender: *not amused* “This isn’t you.”

Me: “No, it is…”

(I get this almost every time I show my passport, because it is an old picture and it really doesn’t look that much like me.)

Bartender: “Is this even real?”

(Now, I’m offended.)

Me: “It’s definitely me. I come here all the time and we went to [Community College] together!”

Bartender: “No, we didn’t. And this is DEFINITELY not you.”

Me: “It is! Look at the date it was issued. Look at my birth date. That picture was taken when I was 17. I’m 24 now, a little heavier, and my hair is longer and less pink, but it is DEFINITELY me!”

Bartender: “This is you?”

(She turns the passport to me and shows me the picture, one of an older man of Middle Eastern descent with a Saudi Arabian name and an impressive beard. A friend of mine had put his passport in my glove box months ago and then apparently forgot about it.)

Me: “You’re right; that’s not me.”

(Luckily, I had my actual passport, and was able to return my friend’s with an awesome story. With any luck at all, the bartender will fail to remember me again next time I go in.)

Your Biggest Bugbear

, | Danvers, MA, USA | Awesome Workers, Bad Behavior, Food & Drink

(It is my last week working as a waiter at a nice restaurant/bar before heading off to college. Late Friday afternoon, eight men in suits and ties come in for food and drinks. A couple minutes after serving their cocktails, one of them calls me to the table, stands up, and starts shouting.)

Customer: “What’s the meaning of this? There’s a bug in my drink!”

Me: “I’m so sorry sir. I’ve never seen that happen before.”

(For the next five minutes he rants and raves. I apologize every time he’ll let me get a word in, but he won’t let up. He’s apparently trying to impress his companions, but they’re all rolling their eyes in embarrassment at his hysterics. Finally, he reaches the end of his tantrum.)

Customer: “You should be fired for serving a drink with a bug in it. It’s completely unacceptable. Take this back and bring me another one. Get me another one, right now!”

Me: “Certainly, sir. Of course.”

Me: *turns to leave, hesitates, turns back to the customer* “To make sure I’ve got this right, sir, is that another bug or another drink you would like?”

Customer: “…”

Companions: *burst out laughing*

(The customer turns red. He never said another word. The group left me a nice tip.)